


Time to Spare

by Blazonix



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Fluff and Humor, Inappropriate Use of Time Powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23758930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blazonix/pseuds/Blazonix
Summary: Byleth doesn’t have experience with social niceties. From a tea party to her marriage proposal, she just can't seem to get it right the first time. Good thing she has Sothis to bail her out before she can cause irreparable damage.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 19
Kudos: 252





	1. Chapter 1

Normally, a social faux pas is an ever-present fear that lingers behind a conversation like an invisible ghost. Once the mistake is made, the one responsible immediately wishes they could turn back time and forget the embarrassing moment ever happened.

For Byleth, one Ashen Demon and silent, terrifying young mercenary, a social faux pas is a relatively new concept. Growing up, she found the basic skill of saying “No” “Yes” and “Where’s the payment?” to be all that she needed.

(Most conversations in her line of work tend to go towards “Ah! My spleen!” anyway.)

Until she met Sothis, Byleth hadn’t cared about anything really.

“And just what would you have done if one of them got hurt?” Seteth questions with a scowl.

Seteth stares her down with arms crossed, and Byleth resists the urge to let her eyes roam around his office. She’s being chewed out for taking her students on an unapproved hike that turned into a deadly skirmish, and while everything turned out okay, Mercedes is the only reason why no one needs Manuela’s attention.

There’s a stirring of an emotion she can’t place. Guilt, Sothis tells her with a roll of her eyes. She feels guilty. It doesn’t feel too good.

She wants to reassure both Seteth and herself, but she can’t find the words.

“Oh, enough of this. We knew what we were doing! Show him that we are not to be taken as fools.” Sothis’ demands ring in Byleth’s ears.

As she looks upon the frowning face towering above her, a sense of calm washes over her. Sothis is a guiding light amongst the uncertainty swirling inside of her, and having heard those exact words from a group of mercenaries swindled out of their money, she knows exactly what to do.

“Seteth,” Byleth says lowly before taking slow and sensual steps that twist her shoulders just right. 

Seteth tenses as she closes in on him, and he unconsciously takes a step into the wall behind him. He makes a broken, sputtering noise as she glances up through lidded eyes.

Slamming her hands on either side of Seteth, Byleth demands,

“Where’s the payment?”

“Fool!” Sothis roars immediately. “Set back the hands of time right this instant before he kills you! Or I do!”

This is the first time Byleth uses Sothis’ time powers to protect her social life. It is, unfortunately, not the last. For some reason, people continue to seek her outside of combat for inconsequential chats.

“So what do you do for a little relaxation?” Manuela asks, attempting to spark a topic they can both relate to.

“I fish,” Byleth answers shortly.

The hour long break between lessons was not accounted for, and it had left Byleth unsure of what to do. Standing outside the classroom while deciding between training or revised lesson planning had clearly been a mistake; it’s one she won’t make again.

“So you like fishing, huh? I like to go to the pier by the lake and sing sometimes. It’s quite peaceful there,” Manuela says, and her lips quirk into a smile.

With no new question to answer, Byleth stares at Manuela. Politely. Sothis sighs at her obtuseness.

“Er, this is the part where you offer some interesting tidbit about yourself,” Manuela says, smile falling into a frown.

In theory, chatting is easy. In practice, Byleth finds she doesn’t quite know what to say and when to say it. Her father had done all the talking when it came to clients, merchants, and other mercenaries.

“I once fished up a dead body,” she offers after a moment’s thought.

“You what.” 

Taking Manuela’s gaping expression as an indication to continue, Byleth goes on to say,

“I took it back to camp and asked my father to cook it. I was lectured about cannibalism and diseases for the rest of the day,” Byleth pauses. “Then the body started to move.”

That had been one of the weirdest events of her life.

(“Kid, stop giving me that look. Food meat and human meat are two different things. There are reasons we eat fish and other animals and not each other. Really.” 

Jeralt rubs his forehead in exasperation as his child continues to stare up at him with an air of disbelief. He has no doubt Byleth still sees no difference between people and the boar they ate earlier.

“Look, eating people is a sure way to get yourself killed—what are you looking at?”

Byleth eyes move to something behind him, and a bad feeling hits Jeralt as the child takes a step back. A long, drawn out moan has him whirling around with an axe in his hands.

The body that Byleth dragged all the way to the camp from the river—the very dead body, he double-checked—begins sitting up. Its grey, bloated face skews as if letting out a silent scream.

Jeralt can’t say he’s proud of his panicked, wild swings, or how he doesn’t stop chopping until everything is ground up into a fine paste, but both his child and him remain unharmed.

As Byleth pokes what once was a hand, Jeralt comes to the realization that there’s only one way to deal with this situation.

“We don’t talk about this ever again, okay?” Jeralt says, lowering his axe. “This never happened.”)

After that incident, Jeralt had moved their camp, drank himself into a stupor, and declared the whole thing a hallucination caused by mushrooms. They never spoke of it since.

“Oh, I wasn’t supposed to talk about it,” Byleth realizes with a wince.

Manuela’s stupefied expression makes her wonder what normally happens to those who break her father’s command. Jeralt had always been unyielding to his men, but he’s rather soft when it comes to Byleth. 

Of course, if this conversation never happened, then she couldn’t exactly get in trouble for something she didn’t do.

“Go ahead and turn back the hands of time,” Sothis sighs. “Take a good look at her face and realize that moving dead bodies is not what you talk about with your healer.”

Once time is reversed, Byleth heads straight to the training area as soon as the last of her Blue Lions leave the classroom. She never gives Manuela a chance to drag her into a conversation.

She never makes the same mistake twice after all.

With memories of her father to guide her, Byleth turns out to be quite the teacher. It helps that she can draft her lectures before giving them, and that her students already have a basic understanding of combat. 

She finds that her favorite part of teaching is the practical lessons. It gives her a sense of joy to see her students physically improve, but sometimes it’s a struggle not to kick them into the dirt while screaming.

“Felix, stop goading Dimitri. Your opponent is Ingrid,” she says in exasperation. “Dedue, concentrate on guarding against Annette, not on Dimitri. Ashe, you’re not going to hurt anyone.”

Annette apologizes for some reason, and Ashe gives her a sheepish look before bringing up his training bow. Dedue bows slightly but does not take his eyes away from Dimitri, who is struggling to stay in a guarding stance.

“Yeah, Ashe, just stick it to him!” is Sylvain’s encouraging yell from the edge of the training ground.

“Oh, you can still talk. How wonderful,” Mercedes says before tightening the bandages around Sylvain’s chest.

Felix scoffs as Sylvain yelps in pain, and Ingrid wavers between holding up her javelin or covering her face with a sigh. Not even Sylvain’s suffering can keep Felix from making another jab at Dimitri however.

“If the boar can’t even ignore petty words beneath him, then what good is he on the battlefield?” Felix asks petulantly.

The lance in Dimitri’s hands snap. The sound of something hitting flesh rings throughout the training area while a fake arrow flies somewhere into the sky. 

Annette’s gasp breaks the silence, and Byleth rushes over to Ashe, who is now bent over and covering his nose. Blood gushes from between Ashe’s hands, and Dimitri shouts for Mercedes. 

Fear shoots through Byleth as she realizes a metal shard from Dimitri’s spear lies by Ashe’s feet. She reaches inwards to reverse the situation.

“There are only so many times you can set back time in a day. Look down, there is no blood on the blade. I am sure he is fine! Just take this as a lesson learned!” Sothis pleads in the back of her mind.

“Oh, ow. Ow. It’s definitely broken!” Ashe exclaims, words barely comprehensible as Mercedes tries to coax his hands away from his nose.

“I am so sorry!” Dimitri cries in anguish next to them.

A terrible feeling hits her at her students’ suffering. Whatever feeling this is, she can’t deal with it right now. She allows the power of time to wash over her, erasing the events before her.

“Oh, come on!” Sothis complains.

“Ingrid, just kick Felix’s ass already. That’s an order,” she says once time settles around her.

Ingrid, who had been trying to maintain a professional face despite the childish actions of her sparring partner, doesn’t hesitate to change her stance from throwing to stabbing.

“Understood,” Ingrid says. _With pleasure_ , are the silent words everyone can hear.

Felix barely has time to block the close-ranged strike from Ingrid, and Dimitri takes a calming breath as Ashe murmurs comforting words. Dedue turns his attention back to Annette just in time not to lose his eyebrows.

Byleth, having now learned the secret to keeping her students in line, has no more problems out of them after that. 

Soon though Seteth mentions something about keeping an eye on their well-being, and Byleth decides to get to know them on a more personal level. She starts with the student she can relate to the most.

“...” Dedue says.

“...” Byleth nods.

No one bothers the two of them, and Byleth soaks in the peaceful atmosphere of the greenhouse. While she sometimes hands him tools, she doesn’t do much more than watch Dedue work. It’s almost as good as fishing. 

Dedue shakes his head at her because clearly gardening is superior to fishing. Sacrilege, she thinks.

Their moment together goes by too fast, and soon Byleth finds herself alone in the greenhouse. She feels like she missed her chance to truly connect with Dedue. When her heart pulses, Sothis bemoans the waste of time.

“Just why? You literally said nothing to each other. In comradery even!”

“I could do better,” she states with determination.

Talking with her students gets easier over time. With the Blue Lions being so warm and friendly, she doesn’t have many missteps to correct. Mercedes is a kind soul who laughs any awkward words away, and Felix can hear everything she has to say through sparring.

The one to break her winning streak is, of course, the problem child.

“Just admit it, Professor. You have a thing for me, don’t you?” Sylvain teases, even as he bares his teeth at her.

Chewing on a burnt piece of fish courtesy of one Annette Dominic, Byleth wonders what compelled her to invite Sylvain to eat with her. Surely there are better ways to get to know him than this.

“Ah, but there’s a long line to be Lady Gautier, you know!” Sylvain winks.

And no doubt Sylvain is ready to lead all those in line for his family’s name into a pit. Lashing out against women before they can hurt him is a staple for Sylvain. Unfortunately for Byleth, being his teacher doesn’t exclude the fact that she has breasts.

She’s at a loss on how to solve the growing problem in front of her. Despite his flirting, she’s pretty sure Sylvain is planning to shove her off a cliff.

If his main problem is being forced to have children then...

“I know a technique to stop you from having children permanently,” Byleth offers, fingers curling in a motion that a lady showed her once.

Sylvain spits out his food, and the dining hall goes completely still at her words. Byleth wipes the side of her face with the back of her hand.

“As tempting as it is to let this one pass, maybe you don’t want to be known as ‘Ball-breaker Byleth,’ ” Sothis says wryly.

Her father would find it funny.

“Of course he would, but my fate is tied to yours. I refuse such a crude title,” Sothis sniffs.

A pulse later finds her ordering a meal at a nearby inn instead. Sylvain is still there for some reason, but this time she can threaten his balls to laughter and bard music without anyone being the wiser.

It doesn’t stop Sylvain from plotting to push her off a cliff, but he does gain a newfound respect for her when she curls her fingers.

The next instance that sees Byleth using Sothis’ powers has nothing to do with her Blue Lions. The situation comes about from heated words spoken to a Golden Deer student.

Leonie manages to rile up Byleth in a way no one has before. It’s a novel experience, but not one she would like to repeat.

She doesn’t think much of the girl that shadows her father’s steps even as Leonie loudly declares herself to be “Jeralt’s apprentice.” Leonie is not Byleth’s student, so the girl fades from her view as a result.

When Jeralt continues to leave the monastery on knight business, Leonie switches her stalking to Byleth. It’s like the girl needs whatever piece of Jeralt she can get.

What’s worse than the stalking is the _nagging_.

“Captain Jeralt would never do that,” Leonie scoffs as Byleth reels in a fish slowly.

“You’re doing it wrong. I learned all about it from Captain Jeralt,” Leonie says as Byleth sharpens a sword in the armory.

“I can’t believe _you’re_ related to Captain Jeralt,” Leonie sneers as Byleth stuffs her face with a sweetroll.

Normally, Leonie’s harsh words roll off of Byleth as if they were never uttered, but this goes on for months. A snide comment made by Sylvain only makes the situation worse. It even keeps Byleth awake at night. _Does_ Leonie want to…?

“Are you trying to get adopted by my father, or do you want to have sex with him?” She decides to ask the girl bluntly.

“What the hell!” Leonie blows up immediately, and her face turns as red as her hair.

That is not a no, she thinks even as Sothis muffles a scream.

“If you are, you’re going to have to do better than that,” Byleth says even as Sothis begs her not to. “You’re built like a twig, you’re not very strong, there isn’t an ounce of feminine charm in you, and your personality is as good as a rotten log.”

Better to nip this in the bud here and now. She will murder every single person involved if Leonie becomes an Eisner.

There is more she wants to say, but Leonie jumps her with a war cry. Even though the ensuing scuffle causes people to flee the grounds while screaming, it’s over in seconds. Leonie lies on the ground unconscious.

Byleth pokes at the fresh cut on her hand. It seems Leonie is actually a decent fighter once a knife is in her hands. The girl has potential.

“You stupid child. Did you have fun? Does it make you feel good to act half your age?” Sothis scolds as knights surround Byleth with swords drawn. “She’s been trying to get _your_ attention this whole time, not your father’s! When you go back, do _not_ engage her in such a petty squabble again!”

Time flows backwards until Leonie is once more stomping towards Byleth with a glint in her eye. Byleth rubs a wound on her hand that no longer exists and makes a quick decision.

“Would you like to have tea with me?” She asks before Leonie can open her mouth.

“Uh, wha—sure?” Leonie blinks.

Tea time, Byleth comes to soon realize, is not to be underestimated. A person can sip on their tea while thinking about what to say. They can even buy some extra time by pretending to savor the flavor of the tea.

Better yet, one can aimlessly talk about tea and food to accompany said tea for the entire time if they so wish it.

Byleth manages to walk away from having tea with Leonie with both of them in a good mood. There is real power to be had here. Knowing that, she takes to having tea with all the Blue Lions on a regular basis.

Of course, her students are busy with their studies and family duties, so it’s not uncommon to be turned down when she invites them for tea. Dimitri is the only one who never misses it.

“I hope you don’t mind. I brought these pastries today,” Dimitri says while holding a carefully wrapped basket. “They looked unique, and Dedue encouraged me to bring them.”

“I can’t wait to try them,” she says.

Dimitri sets the wrapped basket onto the table, and if he breaks any unspoken tea rules by doing so, neither of them care. Byleth pours them both a cup of chamomile tea as Dimitri settles into the seat across from her.

It’s a nice day out, she thinks. Sunny with a slight breeze. There’s no one around, and the gazebo next to them is covered in butterflies. It almost feels like a dream.

They chat mostly of training, of other students, and interesting things going on in Fodlan. The conversation soon turns to Byleth’s life as a mercenary, and she tries to steer away from the worst of it.

Dimitri has a darkness in him that doesn’t need to be encouraged. She nudges him towards the topic of mercenary equipment which makes it largely her fault that he asks a certain question.

“Pardon me, Professor, but with the way your father and the rest of his men arm themselves, why do you,” Dimitri trails off awkwardly.

She doesn’t get it at first even as Sothis begins laughing in the back of her mind.

“I mean, your unique armor, that is to say, there’s nothing wrong with it surely, but.” Dimitri takes a long sip of his tea. “You know what? Never mind.”

What does he mean by her unique—oh. Byleth blinks once it hits her. She considers her cup of tea. She’s not offended. It’s not the first time she’s been called out on her so-called armor, and it won’t be the last.

“I met a mercenary once who dressed in a similar fashion. My father left me with her when I came of a certain age,” Byleth says, having the newfound sense of propriety not to mention biological functions.

The tenseness in Dimitri’s shoulders disappear at her calm explanation. How comforting it is to know that she isn’t the only one who worries about making a social faux pas.

“So you dress like her to honor her?” Dimitri assumes.

Byleth thinks back on the busty woman who liked to see men fall over themselves at the sight of flesh. Younger Byleth hadn’t quite realized what “using your feminine wiles” meant.

“No. She told me I could use my breasts to kill men, and I took it literally,” Byleth admits.

Dimitri chokes.

“Turn back now. NOW,” Sothis demands.

Internally sighing, she turns back the hands of time by only a few seconds. She doesn’t understand what makes Sothis so embarrassed. Byleth knows better now obviously. Not once did a man fall over dead just from looking at her.

“So you dress like her to honor her?” Dimitri assumes.

“Yes, to honor her,” Byleth lies before offering some truth. “I still see her sometimes. She likes to design women’s tights, so I’m trying to show them off as much as I can.”

“Like displaying someone’s painting,” Dimitri nods. “You must be fond of her.”

He smiles at her before taking a sip of tea. Taking in the prince’s relaxed expression, she supposes Sothis was right as always. As funny as it is to see him flustered, it’s rare that Dimitri is so genuinely happy without the shadows hanging over him.

Dimitri doesn’t see the small, silly smile on her lips as she watches him.

“Let’s do this again,” Byleth says, feeling her heart beat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to imagine that every time Byleth could have solved the situation with their canon god time powers but didn’t, it’s because they wasted all their Divine Pulses on stupid things like this.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time of the ball, Byleth has to rely less and less on Sothis’ powers to get through conversations. From what Dimitri tells her, she’s also getting more expressive and emotional as the days pass by. It is apparently a charming thing to witness.

Being charming is not a good thing in Byleth’s opinion. She’s had to dance with so many people that she’s seriously thinking about running away to Dagda. They need mercenaries there, surely.

“Oh, stop being an infant about such things,” Sothis chides as Byleth climbs the stairs of the Goddess Tower. “Oh, if only I had a body of my own, I would show you what true dancing looked like.”

Her plans to hide are dashed at the sight of a familiar blue cape by the window. She attempts to turn around and leave before she’s seen. It’s a futile effort; Dimitri’s eyes always seem to find her the moment she nears him.

“Professor, what are you doing here?” Dimitri asks.

His face is shadowed out by darkness, but she can still see the gleam of blue eyes in the passing light. Those eyes blaze with something she can’t quite make out. It makes her uncomfortable.

“Shouldn’t you be dancing with Edelgard?” She asks in an attempt to shift those eyes away from her.

“No, it would be too awkward I would think,” Dimitri says.

Dimitri tells her about past memories with Edelgard and dancing. He lets out a humorless laugh before moving on to the legend of the Goddess Tower. Byleth mostly nods through the whole thing, too exhausted to really comprehend what’s being said.

“My, haven’t we gotten cozy?” Sothis mocks.

With a jolt, she realizes that she’s close enough to see Dimitri’s face. The light from the window hits Dimitri differently now that he’s looking down at her. When had she moved?

“The legend speaks of a wish, but to think that the Goddess would actually grant us a wish, hah. The Goddess just watches us, never moving to reach her hand out to us,” Dimitri says darkly. “And even if she did, we cannot grasp her hand with our own.”

As if to emphasize his words, Dimitri holds up a hand and curls it into a fist. Byleth barely keeps herself from reaching for it. Sothis makes an irritated noise before sighing loudly.

“Just what has this poor child been through?”

Too much probably. The darkness in Dimitri is one she’s seen before: many a mercenary drinks themself unconscious to keep their nightmares at bay. When the drink fails them, they either lose themselves to their choice of poison, turn to banditry, or go on a suicidal run.

She will do all that she can to keep Dimitri from falling any further than he already has, but she has no clue what to do about _this_.

“Still, there is no harm in making a silly wish. Care to join me, Professor? What kind of wish should we make?” Dimitri’s voice is light, but there’s an undercurrent of madness running through it.

His eyes remain glued to her face, and she knows what they remind her of. A lion, she thinks. Those are the eyes of a hungry lion, and there’s a row of sharp teeth slowly pressing into her neck.

“Perhaps it would make sense for me to wish that we’ll be together forever. What do you think?”

Something goes down her spine, and she knows she needs to scramble for a way out of this conversation immediately. She needs to say something to break the tension.

“If you’re going to propose, you should have brought a ring,” she blurts out the first thing she can think of.

“I—what?” Dimitri blinks.

Whatever spell was wrapping around them disappears instantly. It’s like inhaling fresh air after walking around a stifling tomb.

“Was your proposal a joke?” She continues on. “Has Sylvain rubbed off on you?”

“I am nothing like Sylvain!” Dimitri vehemently denies.

She looks around the dark, empty room. It’s rare that students get the luxury of privacy, and the Goddess Tower is a popular rendezvous spot for a reason. A feeling of mischievousness hits her.

Her father had once said that men became like beasts when it came to sex. She wonders if that goes for Dimitri as well.

“Then you would rather we go to bed first?” She asks, pretending to be completely and utterly confused.

“ _Professor_ , I, you! You don’t mean!” Dimitri sputters.

She can’t see him blushing, but she has no doubt he is. Heat radiates off of Dimitri like the burning coals of a campfire.

“Poor boy, he doesn’t know what he is in for,” Sothis comments before prodding Byleth. “Turn back the hands of time, and take his words as the jest they are.”

She can somehow feel the pitying expression Sothis looks at them both with. She understands Dimitri, but Byleth doesn’t know what she did to get that look. It’s mystifying.

Still, Dimitri’s words being a joke make more sense than him trying to get into her pants. Seems it’s up to her to teach him the art of humor. He sucks at it.

With a beat of her heart, time rushes past her until she’s back in the courtyard. Last time, she kept to the shadows, held her breath until she was sure she was alone, and crawled her way to what she believed was sanctuary.

She steps out from behind a pillar and walks around until Dimitri catches sight of her.

“Professor, what are you doing here?” Dimitri asks even as she eyes the Goddess Tower behind him with apprehension.

Their conversation happens pretty much the same, and despite Byleth meeting Dimitri outside this time, they both still end up inside the Goddess Tower. 

It should be easier to converse with him now that she’s aware that Dimitri is joking, Byleth tells herself.

“Perhaps it would make sense for me to wish that we’ll be together forever. What do you think?”

“...” Byleth says.

“Perhaps I was wrong. Upon hearing it once more, it doesn’t appear to be much like a jest at all, does it?” is Sothis’ unhelpful comment.

Somehow she makes it through that somewhat terrifying experience. Dimitri’s eyes aren’t quite as intense as the first time, and the feeling of lion’s teeth at her neck is mercifully absent. She relaxes slightly. 

Dimitri’s sanity may continue to unravel as the days go by, but at least she doesn’t have to worry about being imprisoned for an illicit affair. No doubt Rhea would enjoy that.

What Rhea would not enjoy is the murder of one of her most prominent students.

Even though the times that she has to use Sothis’ power outside of battle get fewer and far in between, Byleth still messes up every now and again. Sometimes she messes up so badly it leaves Sothis speechless.

“Teach, is there a reason you thought throwing your sword at Hubert was a good idea?” Claude asks, nonchalant tone at odds with the tight grip he keeps on a knife.

Byleth taps her knuckles against her face while she figures out what to say. Claude remains silent and tense beside her. They stare at the body bleeding out on the stone floor with tilted heads.

“I thought he was going to dodge with his vampire powers,” she says feebly.

“Vampire powers?” Claude raises an eyebrow.

Byleth bumps her fist against her mouth to keep herself from elaborating. She’s aware she sounds stupid, but it’s true. Hubert’s definitely a vampire. She followed him around the corner of the monastery one night only to see a bat flying off with no Hubert in sight.

She’s even seen him drink blood when he thought no one was watching. How Hubert can move around in the sunlight and a monastery is a mystery for the ages.

“Well, teach, can’t say he didn’t deserve it what with the stalking and the drugged handkerchief, but I can’t help but think the church won’t be siding with you on this one,” Claude says.

She gives the handkerchief next to Hubert’s body a considering glance. She might have been in the right to defend herself, but absolutely no one will believe that she couldn’t have disarmed a student without killing them.

Honestly, she really thought Hubert would dodge her throw. Byleth just wanted to scare him a little, maybe draw a bit of blood.

“Tell you what, you help me with a mystery—it’ll be fun for both of us even!—and I’ll help you make this absolutely not-a-vampire body disappear.” Claude winks at her.

It’s a tempting offer. She’d be able to get rid of someone who was threatening her, and this mystery of Claude’s sounds intriguing. Students have gone missing recently without any fanfare, so it’s not like anyone would actually miss Hubert.

“I have no words,” Sothis reminds her.

But even so, the shame of killing a student makes her set back the hands of time.

With no dark secret to put him at ease, Claude never approaches her about his mystery again. She invites him to tea, but it’s just not enough to get him to open up to her. It’s a mystery that will have to go unsolved. 

The knowledge that Claude would help her hide the body stays with her. Perhaps she hasn’t given the students of the other houses enough attention. She decides to get to know them better. Not Hubert though. She might accidentally kill him again.

It’s sort of cute when Sylvain threatens her life, she thinks. Like a puppy trying to bite her with tiny teeth. Hubert, on the other hand, was like being snapped at by a full-grown hellhound.

“What am I to do with you?” Sothis asks with despair.

Not constantly scold Byleth for her violent reactions for one. She might be a little high strung from the fact that her father’s murderer is within reach, but it’s not like those damages were permanent. Bite her.

“Ah, what eloquent speech! Truly, your words are a marvel upon one’s ears,” Sothis says with a roll of her eyes.

If Byleth had known what would come of pursuing her vengeance, she would not have been so reckless.

There are some things time cannot fix. 

When Sothis disappears from her mind, an emptiness is all that's left. She clings harder to her students to fill the void, and it’s surprising how hard they cling back. Even Dimitri, madness and rage-filled, shadows her as if afraid Byleth will disappear once more into darkness.

She only has the year with them, but she will do anything for her students—no, for her friends.

Then war comes to Garrag Mach, and five years pass without Byleth even aware of it.

The stench of death is a familiar one, and she follows the bodies to find her friends. Dimitri waits for something in the Goddess Tower, but no matter how much she reaches her hand out, he doesn’t take it.

It appears that the darkness has overtaken Dimitri in her absence. Thankfully, her other students are well though.

“And where have you been?” Felix demands even as blood continues to drip from his blade.

The sound of Felix’s voice bounces around the wreckage of the monastery, making them louder and warped. There’s accusation and pain in those words which causes guilt to rake through her from the inside out.

“Dead,” Byleth says irritably.

Her sarcasm comes out more seriously than she intends, and Felix pales as if seeing a ghost. She goes back by a few seconds with a softer word on her lips.

“And where have you been?” Felix demands.

“Asleep,” Byleth says gently.

“As if I’d believe that,” Felix scoffs.

She does her best to describe her fall from the cliff that ended in slumber, but even she can’t quite believe the absurdity of it all. Though he says he doesn’t believe her, Felix checks on her each morning after that. If Byleth looks sleepy in a meeting, he has Mercedes sit by her. 

Flayn mentions a fear of falling asleep herself, and Seteth remarks on the possibility that the gifts of the Goddess require a steep cost. Byleth finds her sleep schedule monitored by more than Felix after that.

She truly loves her friends even when they go overboard, but she has to take naps on the chapel pews just to escape them. She often finds herself staring at the back of Dimitri’s cape. He doesn’t acknowledge her presence, and she doesn’t try to make him.

While Dimitri is far more unstable than when she last saw him, he’s here in Garreg Mach at the appointed time. It has to mean something. She won’t give up on him until there’s nothing left.

(Byleth just wishes he hadn’t gotten so much taller. It’s a little unfair.)

She’s not the only one concerned about Dimitri, but for the others, they have more riding on the fallen prince’s shoulders than personal feelings.

“Professor, a knight must always be beside their king. I know this, but.” Ingrid falls silent.

Byleth looks down at the pitchfork in her hands and wonders when stable duty became so serious. Ingrid trades her for a shovel, and Byleth begins cleaning an empty stall.

“There are plenty of knights who don’t stick with their king,” Byleth says, trying to step around piles of dung. “They travel. They patrol the borders. They take up a stronghold.”

“Maybe so, but I made a promise so long ago, and then there’s my father.” Ingrid stops scattering around hay to stare up at the ceiling pensively.

“Well, shit,” Byleth says, accidentally stepping in a pile of horse crap. “That’s just great.” 

A string of swears fills the stables as her attempts to get the dung off her boot only causes pieces of hay to stick to it. Ingrid lets out a scandalized gasp.

“Professor!”

She sets back time before she ever entered the stable, so she can grab a pair of old work boots. It’s not like she planned on cleaning up, but Ingrid had approached her for a private talk. Once they had stepped inside the stable, it’d been obvious someone had neglected their duties.

She’s prepared the next time around. Byleth even leaves early enough that she can get more fishing in before Ingrid stomps down the pier to whirl her away to the stables.

“Oh, Professor, there you are. Are you busy?” Ingrid asks, unintentionally stomping down the wooden pier.

“Not at all,” Byleth says, swinging her legs over the water, each foot adorned with a pair of boots that she stole from one of Jeralt’s mercenaries.

Ingrid isn’t the only one who approaches her with father problems. Annette’s issues are a little easier to solve, but Byleth can’t seem to convince Annette to let her fix them.

“Even now, every time I approach him, he just runs away. I don’t know what to do, Professor.” Annette looks at her with distress written on her face.

Byleth taps the hammer against her hand and considers her next words carefully. She’s already set time back once for saying the wrong thing. Perhaps she should be more direct this time.

“I can break his kneecaps for you,” she offers. “He won’t be able to walk after that.”

“Er, thanks Professor, but I’m good,” Annette laughs nervously.

The knights behind her murmur amongst themselves, and Annette edges away from her ever so slowly. Clearly this is one conversation that Byleth simply can’t win. She sets time back yet again and decides to remain quiet while nodding her head.

Annette, only wanting someone to vent to, doesn’t mind that Byleth goes back to repairing the monastery when it looks like the conversation will never end.

“When you come back to your senses, I need you to tell Gilbert off for me, okay?” Byleth says from where she lounges on a chapel pew. “Annette made herself cry at least three times.”

“...” Dimitri says.

When Rodrigue dies, when she reaches out and Dimitri takes her hand, when the darkness in his remaining eye fades, when they begin the march to the Kingdom’s capital—she gets her tea partner back. 

Byleth practically falls over herself to make sure her room is presentable when Dimitri accepts her invitation. She has to do a few trades to make sure she has a pot of chamomile tea, but it’s worth it.

Dimitri, she has come to realize, is worth it.

“Professor, it has been a long time since we’ve had tea together. I,” Dimitri trails off and stares into his teacup morosely.

“It’s fine,” she says. “Nothing is stopping us from having tea every day if we want to.”

It’s a nice thought even if the reality of war only makes it a wish. Neither of them can afford such a luxury when their own troops are starving. Once they attain peace, she doubts the King of Faerghus will have time for a mercenary like her.

Even though those thoughts hurt her, the slight smile Dimitri gives is enough to fill her with happiness. She’s gotten used to lifting the corners of her mouth, but it must still be quite the sight since it causes Dimitri to stare at her, silent and intense.

“I fear that I am not worthy of your smile, let alone the opportunity to speak with you like this,” he says, tilting his hair over his eye.

“What do you mean?”

“Professor, no,” Dimitri shakes his head, “Byleth, the Goddess has gifted you with her power. You are special beyond what I can comprehend. And here I am with so much blood on my hands.”

He lays his hands on the table, palms up, and leans down to stare at them as if looking for the blood that is only visible to him. Byleth slams her teacup down with an anger that has nothing to do with Dimitri, and all to do with the evil of the world; it makes Dimitri jump.

“I was born with Sothis in my head. Seteth suspects that Rhea did something to me,” she says.

“What do you mean?” Dimitri looks up at her.

All anyone knows is that the Goddess gifted Byleth her power. She hasn’t told anyone the whole truth, and she finds herself stumbling in an effort to tell it correctly.

“I haven’t just been gifted with power. I am her. In a way. Not completely because Sothis is a bit of a brat.” 

“The Goddess is a brat,” Dimitri repeats woodenly.

She cringes at how badly she messed up.

She had meant to reassure Dimitri that her divine right had been handed to her, and that he was the truly special one for being able to step back into the light after so long in the darkness.

Setting back the hands of time, she tries to get the words out once more.

“Rarely does worth matter. It’s not up to you to decide who I smile and talk to,” Byleth says far too coldly in an attempt to keep a serious, even tone. “Considering I like to talk to you so much I often set back time to do so again, I think you’re good.”

“You what?”

Whoops, she hadn’t meant to say that last part. Time flows back around her, and she readies herself to try again.

“Professor, no,” Dimitri shakes his head, “Byleth, the Goddess has gifted you with her power. You are special beyond what I can comprehend. And here I am with so much blood on my hands.”

She sets her teacup down delicately and reaches for a black armored hand. It’s a shame that Dimitri doesn’t feel comfortable even in her quarters to take it off. He tenses up but doesn’t pull away when her fingers lie against his palm.

“Dimitri,” she begins, “you will always have a place beside me, and that won’t ever change even if you decided to burn the whole world down.”

She might have to beat him senseless, but there’s no way she could bring herself to deny Dimitri her hand. As long as he continues to reach for her, she will always be there.

“I might have to scold you, but you’d let me, wouldn’t you?” She teases.

“Yes. Yes, I would.” Dimitri stares at their hands warmly, and his fingers curl around hers.

Though she can no longer hear Sothis, the voices of her friends fill the emptiness. She’s grateful to them with all of her non-beating heart.

Sometimes though, she regrets having so many dedicated friends. Sometimes she would like a little bit of quiet. For instance, when she’s having a meal, she would really like to be able to eat and not have her person be analyzed.

“I’m just saying, what if the Professor _is_ immortal? What if it’s not a temporary thing caused by divine sleep but permanent? She should begin looking at her options,” Linhardt says.

“And I am telling you that your nonsensical musings are only worrying the Professor for nothing,” Flayn argues.

Lindhardt huffs and waves around an instrument that Byleth can’t make heads or tails of. She tries to focus on her fish and tune the two out. It’s futile.

“Well, I mean, assuming she can actually die, the Professor shouldn’t be worried about living that long. There are ways one can end it all. Now, what she should be worried about is how to pass the time until something interesting happens!” Linhardt exclaims with shining eyes.

“You are terrible.” Flayn shakes her head. “Disregarding the fact that the Professor is not immortal, you shouldn’t say such, such horrible things about living so long!”

Byleth folds her hands in front of her face as if in prayer. It was a good fish, she thinks. Tastes like Dedue made it. She would have loved to enjoy it while it was hot.

“Lindhart, what would _you_ do if you were immortal?” Byleth asks tiredly.

“If I were given immortality, I, personally, would develop a technique that would allow me to sleep for...long...periods of time,” Linhardt trails off with widening eyes.

It’s clear from the way that Linhardt suddenly looks from Byleth to Flayn before leaning back to stare at their hair that Lindhart has caught on to something. Flayn gives her a look of pure panic, and Byleth doesn’t even hesitate.

The amount of times she has to go back in time for Linhardt alone is staggering.

(One day, she’ll just give up and let Lindhart win. Today is not that day.)

Dimitri’s return to sanity makes everyone breathe a sigh of relief even as they get ready to march to Enbarr. The others take advantage of the oddly relaxed yet tense atmosphere to let off some steam, and Byleth can’t go two steps without stumbling on someone making out or doing something worse. 

Byleth retreats to her room, and only leaves it for meetings and training. Ashe is a regular in trying to pry Byleth outside. He brings her food when he can’t manage it.

Yes, she appreciates the irony of turning into a facsimile of Bernadetta.

“Oh, I saw Gavin the other day! He was wondering why you never talk to him,” Ashe tells her as she crunches into some kind of tart.

“Who?” She strains to recall the name or face and comes up empty.

Ashe shakes his head from where he sits at her desk, and a bad feeling hits Byleth. She tries not to fidget as her bed has a tiny squeak.

“Our Gavin, the one who always stayed at the back of the class,” Ashe says.

“There were other students?” She blinks.

The ensuing silence is loud enough that she can hear Sylvain getting yelled at by Ingrid from somewhere outside.

“Good one, Professor! You almost had me there.” Ashe chuckles. “As if you could miss all those other faces in the classroom.”

She gives him a dumbfounded look. She only remembers having eight students, and that’s not counting the transfers. What is he talking about?

“You’re not joking, are you?”

She cringes at the look Ashe sends her; it’s a mix of disappointment and disbelief that perfectly conveys the shattering of his confidence and belief in her as a person. He has an amazing talent in guilt tripping, that Ashe.

“Don’t you remember all those lectures? How about all the love letters you delivered for them? When you got called out to the training ground for being ‘too friendly?’ Or the time those students went missing and you looked into it?”

Ashe leans forward in the chair which comes dangerously close to slipping out from under him. He doesn’t appear to notice, choosing to wave his arms wildly.

“Professor, you danced with a lot of the others at the ball to the point you ran away!” Ashe exclaims.

Oh, that, yes. She remembers the staggering amount of students that filled that hall. Many of them forced her to dance with them. Actually, she can sort of recall those same students hanging around the classrooms.

“Why can’t I remember teaching them?” She wonders with something close to desperation.

“Well, it’s not like you were their homeroom teacher,” Ashe soothes. “They mainly showed up for extra credit.”

She wonders what it says about her as a teacher that she doesn’t actually know much about how the academy was run. Were those other students a part of the Blue Lions? Who taught them when she wasn’t using the classroom?

“But at least tell me you remember Lacey? She abandoned her family after hearing your advice,” Ashe pleads.

She sets back the hands of time, but Ashe’s previous admonishments stay with her even as the current Ashe accepts her lies of remembering other students.

When the war comes to an end, past Edelgard and enemies unknown, Byleth makes peace with the fact that she will be forever pretending that she knows what she’s doing.

When Rhea appointed an emotionless mercenary barely out of their teens as a teacher to the most prominent nobles, Byleth somehow tricked everyone into thinking she knew what she was doing from day one. 

Now all of Fodlan wants Byleth to lead the Church of Seiros. She’s going to be crowned the Archbishop soon and take Rhea’s place.

Byleth has never heard of the church until roughly two years ago in her memory. She moves her mouth silently instead of singing. She’s encouraged numerous people to pray to their pagan gods. She can’t remember the Rites for her life.

She tries not to think about the fact that she’s essentially telling people to worship her. She will watch over Fodlan for as long as possible, but a few things are definitely going to have to change before she dies.

There is no way anything can surprise her at this point, Byleth thinks. What could topple conquering a nation, making her student king, and being appointed the leader of a religion about herself?

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Sothis laughs.

“Please answer me,” Dimitri begs once more.

She looks down at the ring in her hand and tries to find the words. Endless questions bounce around her skull, and she mouths them silently.

Are you okay with making the Archbishop a queen? Isn’t that a political disaster? How will it work?

(Why does the Goddess Tower feel so cramped? Why does Dimitri have to be so damn tall?)

“I, this,” Byleth stumbles as excitement rushes through her. “Ring, mine.”

“You accept?” Dimitri tries to figure out.

Well, no, she can’t accept his marriage proposal like this. This is far too embarrassing. Time flows past her with a blink of the eye.

“Say something!” Dimitri stands there with a trembling hand held out.

When words fail her, actions won’t. Byleth takes the ring from his palm and places it on her finger. His face lights up like she’s given him the world. She stares at him with the doomed realization that she doesn’t know what to do from here.

(The ring, the ring, Sothis whispers to her, Jeralt’s ring, you silly child.)

As she continues to stare at Dimitri who covers his blushing face with a hand, she understands that this isn’t the right answer either. 

But she’s getting close. 

With a beat of her heart, she starts anew.

“I see you brought the ring this time,” she says, snatching it out of his hand.

She throws herself at Dimitri, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull herself up. She kisses him thoroughly, and he remains as stiff as stone under her touch. She doesn’t let up until Dimitri returns her kisses.

Which he does eventually.

She ends up dropping the ring, but things get heated enough that neither of them care about it. Regretfully, she turns back the hands of time once their fun comes to an end.

She needs a memory that will survive for hundreds of years. One that she can hang on the church’s walls. Assaulting the King of Fodlan is not what she wants left behind.

Byleth keeps going back until she’s satisfied with her response. She wants to get it just right, and if she wants to create all these memories of moments that never happened?

Well, she has the time to spare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading~


End file.
